


Boughs Too Slight

by Mythdefied



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Avengers Family, Disabled Character, Friendship, Gen, Tony Feels, Tony-centric, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 07:54:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4130302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythdefied/pseuds/Mythdefied
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He dreamed of flying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boughs Too Slight

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Who Has Known Heights](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1935504) by [MountainRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MountainRose/pseuds/MountainRose), [szzzt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/szzzt/pseuds/szzzt). 



_Be like the bird who, pausing in her flight awhile on boughs too slight, feels them give way beneath her, and yet sings, knowing she hath wings._

\- Victor Hugo

 

He dreamed of flying. Unencumbered, no encasing metal, no recycled air, no HUD, just the wind against his skin, in his face, through his feathers. Limbs pulled in tight as he dove, falling so fast he couldn't catch a single breath, head dizzy with it. The sudden full body jerk as he forced a full spread, shoulders and back screaming at the strain, his delighted laughter filling the thin air around him. 

He used to wake alone and keening. Rage and sadness, loss and horror screamed out over and over until his throat was raw. Now, more often than not, the feel of Pepper's arms around him, her soft ginger feathers brushing his chest and legs, brought him back. Brought him down to the earth he'd never again leave on his own. Sometimes her touch alone stopped the worst of it and he woke more slowly, the weight of gravity pressing him down, cheeks wet with tears, lips salty. He'd grown used to it, knew how to shove it away, bury it down. 

When Pepper wasn’t there, out of town, running the company, Tony slept in the room he’d designed just for him alone. If he slept. He’d gotten used to the flat, rectangular surface, so unlike round, deep nest beds, but an easier fit for such a small room. Most days he didn't even lose his balance when he first got out of bed and his upper body was too light, nothing to spread out to steady himself. He barely even noticed how small his custom bathroom was anymore, the intense claustrophobia only a rarely considered memory. He didn't miss the room-wide mirror on the wall he'd always had in his rooms; a slim one was perfect for his needs, for a quick check of his hair, a once-over of his clothes. It was always distracting, the feel of fabric, even the highest quality silk, against his bare back, against too-sensitive skin surrounding scar tissue, but he was good at pulling his mind away from it. He had plenty to think about, schematics and equations omnipresent. 

He had an elevator. Narrow and fast and while they weren’t usual in buildings, he was hardly the first person to need one, so he’d just made the best elevator in the world. Sleek, narrow, and so much faster than the speed anyone could hope to get up to in a glide between the landing balconies of floors.

The common floor at the top of Avenger’s Tower was one of his masterpieces. Sprawling wide enough for every member of the team to stand in a line, full spread, without touching. The ceiling was high enough for acrobatics and a flipped switch would open the roof. The landing balcony took up the entire south wall; glass doors would slide shut when it wasn't in use, but today the room was empty, the doors were wide open, and Tony could hear voices rising and falling outside, faint over the constant whistle of wind.

Stepping out to the edge of the balcony, hands shoved into jeans pockets, Tony let his eyes close as the wind whipped against his face. For a moment, if he disregarded the metal beneath his bare feet, it was like being back out there. He quickly shook it off, opening his eyes and looking down.

Full on maneuvers, swooping and banking, diving and climbing, formations, pairs, solo, Steve’s voice shouting out commands that were instantly obeyed. It wasn’t as though Tony had invented the best ever in-flight communications system or anything, nope, Steve liked to do things the old fashioned way at least once a week, just in case. Tony just grinned and shook his head in fond exasperation.

The movement must’ve caught Steve’s attention because abruptly he changed course and was up in Tony’s airspace just long enough for, “Suit up, Iron Man; practice started an hour ago.” And then he was gone in a snap of huge blond feathers.

Tony rolled his shoulders, trying to rid himself of phantom weight.

“Yo, Tony!”

He looked down with a raised eyebrow, spotted Clint waving at him, feathers dyed yet another shade of violent purple.

“C’mon, Jump!” Clint tacked back and forth, arms wide, holding the same altitude with easy minute adjustments.

Tony chuckled, rolling his eyes; Clint never stopped with the crazy. 

But then there was Bruce, flitting beneath and then up behind Clint. Bruce, who hardly ever took to the air, too afraid of being startled and hulking out. He smiled and waved at Tony, beckoning.

And Natasha was suddenly there, zipping by in a ridiculously low flyover of wind and shifting scarlet, reaching down to ruffle Tony’s hair in passing with a wink.

Oh, why the hell not. 

Tony took two steps and launched himself off into the air with a loud whoop. Arms and legs spread wide, he laughed as he plummeted down.

For a few moments it was glorious free fall, then the breath was knocked out of him as Clint swooped in, catching him around the chest. He hooked an arm around Clint’s neck as they shot upwards, far, far above the tower. Where Clint suddenly released him, shaking off his grip.

Laughter tore from him again and Tony pulled his arms in tight, legs locked together as he dropped head-first like a guided missile. Air moving too fast for a breath, lungs burning, grin stretching his lips so wide he thought they’d split.

Hands grabbing onto his ankles, flash of red hair and a slight smile; Natasha used both their momentums to sling him back up, hard.

Tony tucked himself into a ball, increasing his spin, rocketing up into the air. He only spread himself back out when he reached apex, that incredible moment of weightlessness.

“Tony! Are you _insane_?” But Steve was laughing as he caught him around the waist.

“Have you _met_ me?” Tony laughed back. 

Then he was flying again, tumbling out further away from the tower, on a direct path to Bruce, suspended there with his ridiculously fast hummingbird hover that Clint claimed he didn’t envy.

Tony grabbed Bruce around the shoulders, sending them spinning out, altitude dropping as they grinned at each other, Tony’s maybe a little on the manic side. 

Bruce couldn’t hold him for long, not built for speed instead of strength like he was, but just long enough to get a really good spin going, to push Tony away, spinning and dropping, and slamming into a hard, unyielding body that had to be Thor.

Stunningly gold primaries whipped around Tony’s face, catching briefly on one of his belt loops before they were climbing back up, circling as Thor found an updraft.

“Brace yourself, my friend!” Thor’s voice boomed, and then he was swinging Tony around from his wrists like he was Mjölnir. He couldn’t be using all his strength or Tony’s arms would be out of their sockets, but it was hard enough that Tony felt the strain and laughed at it, grinning up at him.

Laughing in return, the sound like boulders crashing down a mountain, Thor released him and Tony went flying away vertically, tumbling over and over, his own joyful yells ringing in his ears above the wind.

With the speed and force of Tony’s flight, Steve was the one to catch him safely. And abruptly just letting him go, letting him drop, right towards Clint, who was waiting with open arms and laughing eyes.

It’s hard on Tony’s body, joints aching, muscles protesting, deep twinges where hand-shaped bruises would form, shoulders and back flexing uncontrollably with movements that no longer had any use; he’d be exhausted later, probably too sore to even put on the suit. And it didn’t matter. Nothing did because his friends were there to catch him, the sky filled with their shouts and laughter. 

Tony was flying.


End file.
